#Cork Keychain

[deluxeprinting1]

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[cougamount]

i saw this guy in my college's commons area today with a pokemon keychain on his backpack. it wasn't just any pokemon, it was armaldo, so i knew he was a real one, i really wanted to compliment it and show him my absol one but he had headphones on.. idk if i will find him again ...

[leatherbookmark]

huh, the little leaflets in the pop-up store were "free posters" in paris? i thought they would make a cute little souvenir so many times and you're NOW (well, 5 days ago) telling me i could've taken them? come on :(

[cork-crossbody-bag]

Why Should You Choose Cork Crossbody Bags for Daily Errands?

Let's face it: our daily habits can greatly impact the planet. From single-use plastics to fast fashion, getting caught up in convenience over sustainability is easy. 

But what if making a change was as simple as switching up your daily bag? Cork crossbody bags are more than just stylish accessories; they're game-changers for reducing waste and making living more eco-friendly. 

Let's dive in and explore how these crossbody bags can make a real difference in your daily life.

5 Benefits of Transiting to Cork Crossbody Bags

Why should you make the transition to cross-body bags? Here are a few benefits that will answer your questions:

Sustainability

Everyone looks for sustainability when purchasing an item. Cork is a very renewable product and, therefore, one of the most sustainable materials, so that is a plus for environmentally conscious people. You should always choose a sustainable bag for your daily activities; bags made from cork are your go-to solution.

2. Comfort

Far more portable than backpacks, crossbody bags are convenient, as they free your hands and make it easy to maneuver without a weight on your shoulders. The bag sits on the chest in such a way that all the weight put into carrying the bag is not felt at the shoulders and back. This makes cork crossbody bags suitable for day-to-day activities, such as traveling or working.

3. Security

These bags are even more secure as compared to the other kinds of handbags. This bag ensures that your belongings are closer to your body compared to other bags; therefore, it’s hard for criminals to get them. Also, cork crossbody bags are usually designed with secure closures and zippers, which enhance overall protection.

4. Accessibility

Cork crossbody bags are very convenient as they allow you quick and easy access to your items; most designs come with multiple sections and pockets. This means that in a flash, you can get your phone, wallet, or car key out without having to scrabble around the bag.

5. Fashion

Some types of fashion bags range from simple and elegant to funky and shabby; then there are cross-body cork bags to suit everyone’s personality. Moreover, it is worth noting that cork is a natural material that gains an attractive patina with time, thus making your bag unique.

In general, using crossbody bags provides opportunities to create environmentally friendly, comfortable, and safe accessories that will also look stylish and trendy. Make the switch and get a feel for the improvements yourself!

Some Extras That Can Enhance Your Love for Cork Crossbody Bag

Room for Everything: With tons of card slots, a coin pouch, a separate area for bills and notes, and two hidden pockets, you'll be amazed at how much you can fit in there!

Light as a Feather: Cork Crossbody bags are super lightweight and sleek, so you won't feel weighed down. Plus, they're also durable and long-lasting!

Timeless Style: Crossbody bags have a classic, timeless look that will suit your style for years to come.

Soft and Unique: Cork fabric is as soft as leather, but with a twist—it's got a unique pattern like human fingerprints! No two cork bags are alike!

100% Natural: Cork is natural, reusable, and biodegradable. It won't harm the planet, and it won't harm you!

Water and Wear Resistant: The waxy surface and honeycomb structure make cork bags resistant to water and wear. They'll last you a long time, and you won't need to worry about replacing them soon!

Conclusion

Cork crossbody bags are not just a stylish accessory but a game-changer for anyone looking to live more sustainably. With their durability, versatility, and eco-friendly material, it's no wonder why they're becoming a must-have for conscious consumers. 

If you want to join the sustainable fashion movement and are looking for natural crossbody bags, look no further than ForYouByMami, LLC. Their stunning cork crossbody bag is not only made with high-quality, sustainable materials but also designed with style and functionality in mind.

Head over to their official website to get your hands on one and experience the perfect blend of fashion and sustainability. Trust them, your planet will thank you!

[conquestgoddess]

Got this in the mail and am over the moon 🫶

I framed the tarot cards so I could see all of them, going to do the same with my ShadowVanilla deck from the crk anniversary

The billford cup is officially completely covered in stickers so I started a second one and the keychains have been added either to my ita bag or my cork board - same for the pins!

(Not pictured is the hardcover book itself and the washi tape cause I forgot to take a picture of those)

Everything is from @billfordzine

[weary-eerie]

AAAAH THE BABIES HAVE ARRIVED!!!

i preordered them a while ago from @tsuyonpuu and i’m genuinely so happy with how they turned out, i’m obsessed!!! they also came with a holographic print, keychain lanyards, and a little cut out deco sheet!! they’re going straight onto the cork board for safe keeping and display :D

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Nessian 34 👀 🙏

34 - Bauble (Nessian)

The first time Nesta visited Cassian’s apartment she expected to find plain white walls and military precision. Black leather sofas, maybe a red throw cushion or blanket over his bed that had been gifted to him by someone who knew his affinity for the colour.

She hadn’t expected … this.

It wasn’t messy, per se, it’s was just … full.

“Az threatened to call the Hoarders people a few times,” Cassian laughed, pulling at the back of his neck with a nervous hand.

Nesta only hummed, venturing further into the space. The old railroad apartment style didn’t help his cause, how the place seemed to go on and on down one impossibly long hallway. Every blank wall fitted with shelves she had to crane her neck to see.

Nesta was taller than the average person and she still had to lift a hand well over her head to run her fingers across all his little photos and nicknacks. As if he had put the shelves high up to keep these things for his eyes alone.

It was an historical collection, when you really looked.

Faded Polaroids of three boys by a lake and a few decades worth of cheap road trip keychains. Tiny, fake plants and what appeared to be hand painted rocks. Unlit candles still in perfect, tight cellophane packaging and little miniatures that looked like they came from a gumball machine for 25 cents. Everywhere she look there was … junk.

It was all junk, set up for display like a new exhibit at the MET. Angled perfectly on high shelves and scattered over every clear surface.

“I swear I’m not a serial killer.” There it was again, that tight, nervous laugh. How naked he must feel every time someone entered this place. This shrine to his endearingly desperate need to grasp the ones he cared about tightly in two fists. His complete inability to hide it.

Nesta should not have been surprised that Cassian kept his heart in tiny puzzle pieces, bared across the space he called home for everyone to see.

Moving back into his bedroom, which did indeed have a single red throw pillow tossed in the corner, Nesta turned to face him slowly. Lowering herself onto the edge of the bed and perching. Crossing one leg over the other and leaning back just a little.

“Are you going to add me to the collection?” She asked with a wry quirk of her lips. “Have I earned a spot on one of your little shelves yet?”

Cassian blinked. Stared at her dumbly for a second. Swallowing hard, he turned around and took three steps out. Returning with a tiny piece of shiny paper.

“Ticket from Feyre’s art exhibit, the day we met.” He walked closer, coming to his knees in front of her and placing both hands on either side of her body. “Swiped a pack of matches from the cocktail bar where we had our first date - that’s on the bookshelf over there.” Nesta’s head spun, but Cassian caught her chin in his hand instead. “Cork from the bottle of wine I brought over the first time we had dinner at your place is in the living room. Coaster from your favorite Italian restaurant in the kitchen pile. You’re all over this place, Nes.” A deep, steady breath in. “Everyone I love is.”

[mothermiscellaneous]

Phinks’ crush is caught looking in places she shouldn’t have.

Warnings: yandere male x fem reader, general creepiness, mentions of stalking and masturbation

Phinks is the type of guy to have sweat running down his back and face when you’re in the same room as him. It’s easy to be cool and collected whenever he’s alone or, as of recent, surrounded by items from you.

A near empty perfume bottle with a few weak spritzes left in it, a cute mug you broke the handle to, an unsupervised keychain hanging from the cork board near the doorway to your room. It brought him tranquility, silencing any rash and impulsive actions that he’s deeply acquainted himself with. A behavior developed and nurtured during his youth and adulthood. Stealing these things from you held off the inevitable for a few months, maybe it could’ve gone on for longer with you none the wiser while he was kept satiated. So why did you have to ruin it and come home early from your shift?

Now, the roles are reversed. He’s the one coming home to you snooping, looking in the one place he forbade you from.

His most prized possession was in your hands, a tight hold to somewhat comfort you from the reality sinking in. A forgotten sweater left behind in your car when he broke in last year. It was his most daring steal up to that point, and it’s something that he likes to come back to whenever he felt lonely. Even when you’re here in front of him, knelt a foot way in the small closet, he feels alone. Especially, when you have your eyes wide in fear, like you do now.

“Phinks…” you manage to croak out. You were blinking away tears now, making yourself small in the already cramped closet. All of your things were haphazardly thrown inside the day he brought you in. Your first impression of him couldn’t be a deranged pervert, even though you caught him in your bed with one of your shirts pressed against his nose and his other hand slipped underneath the waistband. He could still salvage this, he just needs time. Why did you have to make things difficult?!

His eyes focus on you again, the jumbling thoughts not letting him think clearly and decide on his emotions. Years of behavior cannot be undone in that moment as he suddenly reaches forward and grabs you roughly by the wrist.

“I told you not to snoop through my stuff.” His voice is low and dangerous, yet you felt how clammy his hand was, almost trembling.

Was he just as anxious as you?

There wasn’t much time to dwell on that as Phinks dragged you out.

[i-miss-2013]

I feel so bad for the 13 year old girls of today

A long rant about “aesthetics”

I was once 13, and I participated in countless of trends, but I still felt like I had a little freedom and individuality at that age.

But it feels like 13 year olds now NEED to fit into a mold COMPLETELY to fit in???

Scrolling on TikTok is so scary. Seeing these teens just completely form themselves into an “aesthetic” is so sickening and bizarre! I feel so bad..

Where’s the personality? Their own identity?

Again, I was 13 too, and i understand the struggles of finding yourself, but there’s seriously no need to force yourself into a mold!

The “clean girl aesthetic” is what makes me the most sickest. Like a 13 year old girl revamping her closet to such plain clothes, getting rid of any childhood memories in her room, having the same ‘aura posters,’ a plain phone wallpaper, and the list goes on.

I’m tearing up on the fact of these girls getting rid of things from childhood and preferring just plain, blank, and white.

There’s nothing wrong with liking the “clean girl aesthetic.” It’s something these 13 year old’s like. Yay interests! But it’s the fact that they’re forcing themselves into a mold and forcing themselves to embody the aesthetic like their life depends on it.

To the 13 year old girls: There’s nothing wrong with liking multiple, different things!

I have a marvel calendar on my cork board that has a pink zebra print frame that I ducktaped myself, I have a disco ball pillow along with Sanrio and Justin Bieber pillows, I have white sheets, I like doing a full beat of makeup, I play Valorant, I have Y2K bags, I have Star Wars keychains on my college backpack, I have sailor moon manga, I have multiple Ariana Grande perfumes, I enjoy talking about mental health, I have uggs and hokas but I also have “emo” boots and wedge sneakers circa 2014, my playlist can go from Harry Styles, Sabrina Carpenter, Kali Uchis to Korn, Deftones, Loathe, my laptop stickers have Star Wars and “preppy” flowers to Sanrio to Gigi Hadid, I sip from my Stanley or pink Hydroflask whilst I talk about the new Deadpool movie and can’t wait to watch It Ends With Us.

I like what I like.

I’m turning 20 this year and I’ve gone through SO MANY identity crisis — and I’ll still have plenty of identity crisis in the future. So, there’s no need to “find yourself” at just 13 years old! Just enjoy your interests, like what you like, whenever you like, etc.

Don’t force yourself into a mold

(I hope what I said in this post made sense)

[stickyspeckledlight]

“Happy birthday, Dimitri! It isn't much, but I hope you like this present. It's a small cork bottle keychain with a message inside— wait don't open it—!"

A message tried and true—for…me, of all these souls?

Speckled’s End of Year Interaction Prompts, (12/2/24 - 1/1/25)

You feel your world end with the liberating pop the cork makes, followed by the slip of paper sliding out with an air of smugness. Because yes, maybe it was a bit too much to hope you wouldn’t embarrass yourself. Maybe it was wishful thinking, to hope you could subvert the fate of humiliation the universe sees fit to bestow upon you.

And maybe, JUST maybe, it was too much to hope things like this would go well in the courtyard of all places.

You can only stare, stupefied and corpse like, as Dimitri innocently reads the message.

Out loud.

“To my dearest Dimitri,” the harbinger of your heart heralds, “I wish you the happiest of birthdays,—” he smiles at that, giving you an appreciative glance; but clearly, he must be too engrossed in this message to have noticed your skin, surely pallid and ghastly, “—befitting of a man like you: chivalrous, determined, compassionate, and handsome.” His ears grow a bit red at that, but not as quickly your soul evaporates from you. “I can only surmise that you were crafted by the Goddess herself—” he falters for a moment, quirking his mouth in shock that can’t decide between being disturbed or flattered. He continues regardless, though his tone suggests a struggle to fathom the words he reads, “…who must’ve spun the gold of your hair, harvest the richest of creams for your skin, and extract the purest of sapphires from the skies to place your eyes…”

You aren’t sure if you’re a ghost observing this sorry spectacle from a distance, or if the Goddess herself forces your soul to wither in your body.

“Is it any wonder why I find myself lost for all but these words?

“Dimitri, I love you.”

Please, Goddess Sothis above, please tell me that my body is burning away into ash, you beg, mentally groveling at her feet.

You can practically hear him choke, and blink wide eyed.

“W—Well,” he coughs, “Ahem, [Name], this is…rather, rather forward of you. But…” red spreads to his cheeks, “I cannot say—”

“Kill me.” You blurt, staring at him wide and dead eyed. “Send me to the next realm. I don’t deserve to live anymore. Actually, I don’t think I have the will to live anymore. Frankly I think my life’s ended already, and that I am just a ghost, and that I am perpetually stuck experiencing the thing that killed me. Which is you. So do it. Kill me please. With a cherry on top.”

“[Name]—”

“Here,” you unsheathe and offer your dagger, “if you don’t want to soil your short sword, use this. That way, you won’t have to clean the blood from the longer blade—because cleaning blood’s a real pain, I know.”

Dimitri frowns, “Do not speak as if—”

However, you are too wrought with despair to acknowledge him; and laugh heartily, looking to the heavens, “Goddess Sothis…this is truly the fate you see fit to bestow me? Fate is truly a mysterious thing.”

An iron clad grip rips a yelp from your throat, and your thoughts freeze to a halt when icy blue meets your eyes.

“Do not speak as if your life means so little,” he hisses—no, growls, “Or that it is over. I can tell you in good faith that you are very much alive.”

“I don’t feel alive,” you dejectedly mutter. You feel a bit stiff, all at once encased in ice and burning in bright blue flame.

“You are,” he insists, “And as long as I live, you will be.”

You jolt, “Dimitri?” You can’t think of anything but his name to say. What else can you say, when he says that with so much conviction? Certainty?

Desperation…?

That’s not something you’ve ever seen—

He takes a sharp inhale. “I understand you’re embarrassed, but…”

“I love you as well,” he says, and he’s right back to the Dimitri you know and love.

Though you end up laughing, and spending a quiet, nice afternoon as a first date…

In the back of your mind, you’ll never stop thinking about that Dimitri you saw, for the briefest of moments. And it makes you fear what that Dimitri would look like, in a situation anything but utterly mundane.

[oftenwantedafton]

wither | steve raglan x f!reader

You first meet him in the abandoned cemetery in the woods outside of your school.

Steve Raglan, the part time guidance counselor who moonlights as a security guard at a department store at the local shopping mall on the weekends.

The man with the easy smile that never seems to reach his eyes; who appears to be a little too eager to break the rules; to ask you to keep secrets.

The man who is not a man at all, but something ancient, powerful…and deadly.

Explicit content, 5.8k words, new chapter 2/25/25

chapter four ao3 link, previous chapters available on ao3

You have a gift for Steve Raglan.

Just a little something that had caught your eye at the register when you’d been browsing your favorite store during your lunch break last night, the one with the concert tshirts and jewelry and those boots you couldn’t refuse that are now buried in the back of your closet, probably never to be worn again. Another impulse purchase, this time a keychain with a cartoon styled grim reaper, a black feline companion curled up near the hem of its robe. You’ve no idea if the guidance counselor even likes cats, but it had been too charming to pass up. Maybe he’ll tack it to that cork board in his office. Glance at it on occasion and think of you.

Only fair, since you can’t stop thinking about him.

Your biology professor is currently lecturing on Mendelian inheritance, and although you enjoy working out the neat divisions of probabilities for passing on dominant and recessive traits, you can’t help but find your mind wandering. Pea plants become apple trees in the abandoned orchard. Wild horses. A secret place he’d shared with you.

The ringing of the final bell doesn’t register immediately. You’re still daydreaming, the sights and sounds of your fellow classmates’ chairs scraping across the floor as students begin standing and gathering their things only vaguely noticed. You’re staring now at the seat normally occupied by Heather, the cheerleader that had nabbed your notebook in an attempt to embarrass you by showing your doodles of the guidance counselor. You could have sworn you'd seen her in your Spanish class earlier. Was she cutting and leaving early?

You shake your head, finally gathering your things together. Notebook and text and mechanical pencil secured in your backpack, Steve’s keychain tucked in the left hand pocket of the cardigan now knotted around your waist. Unacceptable during regular school hours, but now you’re free to wear the uniform however you like. You stop by your locker to make the final exchange of texts for the day, then begin heading upstairs to the faculty offices, digging around to retrieve Steve’s present. It’s really too warm to be bringing the sweater anymore even for use during the cooler morning hours, let alone actually wearing it. At least you’d had the foresight to wear a short sleeved blouse.

You reach the top landing, the small figurine dangling from your fingers. The temperature is noticeably warmer here. You’re suddenly craving an ice cream. Maybe he’ll bring you to the local stand. You really could go for a maple walnut cone right about now.

Voices emerging from the corridor ahead make your steps slow. Familiar. Steve’s. And…Heather? So she was here after all. Huh.

You round the corner and stop dead in your tracks.

The older man is leaning close to the blonde senior, one arm braced against the wall, his face hovering near her ear. She’s pressed between his body and the small sliver of free space not covered by the bulletin board with its job postings and tutorial offers and college advertisements, looking somewhat dazed, eyes glassy and unfocused and her lips slightly parted. The keychain slips from your fingers and strikes the wooden floor with a sharp crack of sound. Steve’s eyes shift to find yours.

“Wait.”

That is the exact last thing you intend on doing. You immediately turn and run.

Nausea turns your stomach as you race back down the stairs, your bookbag bouncing painfully against your shoulder blade. You try to blot out the image you’d just seen, but it stubbornly haunts you as you descend another flight, ignoring the guidance counselor’s voice calling your name. The intimacy of that scene. How close they’d been. Jealousy flares, followed by a sense of betrayal. For all his claims of having no interest in the “vapid” teenager, it seems he’d lied all along. How many other young women was he seducing? Stupid, to think you were the only one. That you were special.

You burst through the side entrance, emerging onto the parking lot. Your name is called again but you don’t respond, angling towards the trees bordering the property. Why was he even bothering chasing you?

Right at school. Right where anyone could see. He’s never done that with me. You refuse to let yourself cry. You’ll be damned if you give him the satisfaction. You should report him. He’d be fired. Gone. Out of your life.

Steve is fast.

Faster than you’d imagined possible, somehow closing the distance between you even though you’d gotten a head start on him. You know the path through the woods like the back of your hand, but so does he. Your lungs are beginning to burn. You can’t keep up this pace much longer. The bag slips from your shoulder and you allow it to drop to the ground, hoping it will aid your speed. You keep going, not daring to look back at your pursuer.

He’s on you in seconds, his arms wrapping around you from behind, trapping you against his body. You squirm and wriggle and writhe but you can’t seem to free yourself.

“Stop fighting me,” he says beside your ear. He does not sound winded like you do, gasping for air; instead, his tone is remarkably calm. “You can’t escape.”

“Let me go.” You grit your teeth, still struggling, but it’s like being embraced by bands of iron. He’s simply too strong.

“No.”

“Whatever bullshit lie you’re about to come up with this time, save it. I don’t need to hear it.”

A pause. “What other lies do you think I’ve told you?”

“Oh, please. Should we start with, oh, I don’t know, that plot in the cemetery over there?” You glare at the stone wall encircling the graveyard ahead of you. Funny how the two of you keep ending up here.

“I already explained that situation to you.”

“Yeah. And I’m still not buying it.” You jerk against his arms, surprised when he abruptly releases you. You whirl around to face him, taking a couple of steps backward.

“Do you want to see what’s buried there? Should we go see?”

The placid neutrality in his tone is infuriating. You didn’t expect this response. He looks so guileless. Were you misjudging him? Was there a reasonable explanation for what you’d just witnessed outside the faculty offices? Of course there isn’t. Any more than there’s a deer enjoying eternal rest a few feet away, you silently reprimand yourself.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“How else am I to convince you?”

You shake your head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” He takes a step closer but you refuse to budge, standing your ground. “You didn’t see what you thought you saw.”

“Bullshit.”

“She’s on drugs. That’s why she’s been absent from school so often. She nearly collapsed outside my office. If I hadn’t intervened—”

“—There’s no way. She’s always been so careful about her health. She has to, to keep her position on the cheerleading squad. There’s no way she’s suddenly decided to throw it all away,” you argue.

“Unfortunately, she has.”

“No.” You shake your head. “You’re making this up. I saw you together. Heard you. The way you were leaning, murmuring in her ear…I’m not stupid, Steve. I know what I saw. I’m going home now.” You begin walking past him, intent on retrieving your book bag, when his fingers curl over your forearm, those cold digits halting you.

“Don’t touch me.” You try to jerk your arm away but his grip only tightens. You pull even harder, panicking like an animal caught in a trap, suddenly stumbling over a concealed tree root and losing your balance. You tumble backward and the bearded man moves with you. He snakes a hand around to the back of your head to keep it from striking the ground in the nick of time, bracing himself with the other to prevent his body from collapsing on top of you. You try to sit back up but he abandons the cradle of your head to clamp over your shoulder, pressing you firmly back down once more.

“Damn it, Steve, I said let me go!” Once again your attempts to free yourself prove futile. His hand won’t budge.

“Only if you promise to listen to what I have to say.”

“I already did.”

“You have no reason to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” you protest, well aware that you’re not convincing anyone. From above you hear crows circling and squawking, perhaps complaining about this disturbance in their territory.

“I don’t want her.”

You remain silent, glaring defiantly at him.

“Don’t you know by now? I only want you.”

Your breath hitches at this declaration. “I don’t believe that, either,” you say softly, feeling your body already betraying you, going limp against him. “Convince me,” you challenge.

“How do you suggest I do that?” His face lowers, moving closer to yours. He’s no longer trapping your shoulder, instead bringing a hand to your cheek, stroking along your jaw, coming to rest beneath the edge of your lower lip.

“I don’t know.”

You can smell the soil beneath your body, slightly metallic and musty, the forest scents stirring from the press of your body, from the clutch of his fingers. The older man’s eyes are muddy, dark with desire. His chest heaves as if he’s finally succumbing to the exertion he’d endured during his sprint after you, his glasses slipping down his nose.

“Yes, you do. Say it,” he breathes, the words hot against your face. “One word is all that separates you from what you want. What we want,” he adds, his face dipping closer.

Your heart pounds fiercely in your chest. You can’t look away from the man above you, his gaze radiating want, reflecting your own back at you.

“Yes,” you whisper.

A sigh echoes between you. The forest has gone silent. Now you feel cold, pressing along your back through your school blouse, licking along the backs of your thighs where your skirt has ridden up.

Steve’s lips touch yours.

You whimper, arching your spine. Closer. You want him closer. Deeper. More. You clutch handfuls of his shirt, grab at his tie. His tongue darts across yours. Rapid. Teasing. Then a more gradual slide. Trickling. Saliva building. Unsure where to put it. You offer it and he drinks it in. His beard tickles your skin. His body lies along yours now, his weight dropping down. You feel him, hard and eager between your thighs, your legs already parting to make room for him.

Like animals, rutting around in the dirt, you should feel shame but you don’t, too lost in the moment you’d been waiting for. Last year’s leaves become tangled in your hair and the sun filtering through this spring’s new ones kisses Steve’s back, lighting his hair and beard aflame with glints of silver. He moans, a broken little bit of sound pressed against your neck as his hips roll forward, grinding his body against yours.

“Come home with me.” Command or invitation, you accept it either way, gasping your agreement.

***

The reaper looks over at you and thinks you have never been more appealing.

Sitting there in the passenger seat of the vintage sedan with your mussed hair and rumpled blouse, the smear of dirt on your pale skin like a streak of charcoal where he’d touched you, marked you as his before claiming your mouth for the first time.

He’d known you’d been drawing near to his office earlier, ever aware of your heartbeat, distinct among all the other prey, but the spell he’d been incanting could not be interrupted, lest he jeapordize your own safety. If he was being perfectly honest, though, he’s beginning to tire of the other girl’s gradual destruction, the revenge becoming less satisfactory as time wears on. He wants other things.

He wants you.

And he has you, now hesitating on the threshold of the door leading from the garage into his home.

“Go on in. You know the way,” he coaxes from behind your shoulder. His voice sounds raw, dry. His mouth aches with the memory of the taste of yours.

You turn to face him once you’ve reached the living room. “I’m dirty. I need to wash up.”

“Of course.” He follows you to the bathroom, where you briefly rinse then begin lathering your hands, your eyes darting frequently to check your appearance in the mirror, to steal glances at him. He stands just behind you, his own hands, far more stained than yours, covering your fingers, spreading the soap before guiding your joined hands back under the water streaming from the faucet. Your fingers tangle and separate, caress and hold. You trace over his knuckles and nail beds, stroking away the dirt that has lodged in the creases, shaking your head slightly.

“What?”

“I’m not used to seeing them like this. They’re usually so tidy. And they’re almost warm for a change,” you add with a hint of wonder in your voice.

You’ve no idea, of course, of how every point of contact brings you so dangerously close to perishing; how much effort he must exert to keep you safe. It adds another layer to this dangerous attraction between you, thrilling and challenging.

You scrub at the smear of dirt on your cheek and shut the faucet off and your head lifts, your eyes meeting his in the mirror. He brings his hand, still dripping wet, to tuck around your waist, bending his mouth to your ear. “I’ll need to put your clothes in the wash,” he murmurs. “Can’t send you home filthy later, can I?”

“No,” you agree. Your heart rate is elevated again, a pleasant sound only he can hear as you begin slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons your blouse. His breath hitches as he watches you undress in the mirror, finally grabbing a handful of the material and tugging it free from its tuck beneath the waistband of your skirt to assist you.

He chuckles softly at his own impatience, forcing himself to wait for you to finish unfastening the rest of the buttons. A sensible white cotton brassiere encases your breasts, a perfect match for the panties revealed once you unbutton your skirt. This joins the other garment on the counter. It would be so easy to have you right then and there, but he’s waited this long; a little more patience and you’ll be in his bed. “Go wait for me upstairs while I go toss this in the wash.”

Steve doesn’t bother with his own soiled clothing; he can take care of that later. Only yours fills the metal drum of the washing machine. He hastily pours a capful of liquid detergent into the dispenser and selects the proper settings before moving to the stairs.

You’re waiting at the top of them, hovering outside of his bedroom door. His steps slow as he approaches. “You were meant to go in.”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Stalling?” He teases gently.

“No.” You don’t seem to know what to do with your arms, alternating between folding them across your chest or letting them dangle at your sides.

“Nervous?”

You hesitate, then nod.

“What happened to that brave young woman that tried to seduce me when she spent the night here, hmmm?” He moves forward, trapping you against the closed door.

You swallow, trying to gather your courage, your chin lifting slightly. “She’s still here.”

“Is she?”

“I thought you’d be undressed by now, to be honest. What about washing your clothes?” You gasp when he suddenly cups the side of your neck, tilting your jaw further back with his thumb.

“I’m not going to hurt you. As much as I can help it,” he promises. “Do you believe me?”

You're trembling like a leaf, but still you answer bravely. “Yes.”

He can’t wait any longer, capturing your mouth once again. You moan, your hands twining around his neck while his begin stroking over your body, massaging breasts and hips and buttocks. He fumbles for the doorknob at your back and guides you into the room, steering you by your hips as you walk backwards, finally reaching the mattress and sitting down heavily onto it.

The guidance counselor begins removing his clothes, starting with the glasses, then his tie, then his shirt and undershirt. Your eyes follow every motion closely, especially when he unfastens his belt, but this is where he pauses, instead gesturing for you to push back further onto the bed.

There are still bits of forest floor debris threaded in your hair, discovered when he sinks his fingers into it, ravishing your lips and cheeks and ears and throat. Your skin tastes of the lightly perfumed cosmetics you’d applied earlier that day, your mouth so impossibly honey sweet, elements of youth and vigor and desire mingling on his tongue. He feels some of the tension ease from your frame before he begins working his way further down your body, trailing kisses, finally arriving at your abdomen. He pulls your underwear down over your hips and thighs, past your knees and ankles while you keep your legs close together, still clinging to a last bit of modesty and shyness before his hands part your knees and he has his first glimpse of your sex. He approaches that place slowly, first doting on your inner thighs, mound, the outermost edges, caressing with his fingers, then shifting his body, sliding down until his face rests between your thighs.

If he’d thought your kisses were intoxicating, that first taste of your pussy is pure ambrosia, made all the more sweeter by the sounds that escape you with each new discovery of what you like. He laps between your folds and nudges your clit and you arch towards him, threading your fingers through his hair. He introduces his fingers gradually inside of you, meeting a tight, resistive heat, the soft, smiling pleasure washing over your features switching to frowns and winces. He coaxes you past it, licking and sucking to soothe your body, gradually moving you back over the line towards pleasure.

Crawling back up to meet your mouth, he shares your intimate taste while unfastening his fly and pulling his cock free.

“Steve, I’m not on birth control,” you gasp, a note of clear panic in your tone.

“I can’t get you pregnant,” he murmurs, nipping your earlobe. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Oh,” you huff as he he drags the head of his cock against your clit, then slides it down between your lips, then back up again. “Oh!” A loud sound as he unexpectedly ceases teasing his flesh against yours, this time pressing inside of you, stretching your opening.

“Fuck,” he curses. Even though he’d attempted to prepare you, it seems your body is still resistive. “Try to relax. It’ll go easier.”

“Yeah.” Your breaths come in short, tight pants. Painful for you still, though you’re enduring this so well. He kisses you gently to distract you, slowly thrusting in and out.

“Good girl. You’re such a good girl…Wanted you for so long…”

A whimper. You’re moving your hips now to meet his, encouraging him. “How long?”

He pulls back to study your features. “Since the first moment I laid eyes on you, that day in the cemetery.” Your lashes lift with surprise at this statement. “Always wanted to make you mine.” His pelvis moves a little faster, earning a new sound from you. “And now you are mine,” he whispers before crushing your mouth, his fingers digging into your waist as he fucks you deeper.

“Steve.”

He makes a hasty grab for your legs, readjusting you and pressing you flatter, his body slapping insistently into your wet pussy, the mattress creaking with each movement. He wants to be inside you forever; he wants to share the release of your little death. His face hovers above yours, watching you, his jaw clenched with the effort of not snapping those fragile, flailing limbs beneath him, teeth and nails not shredding you to pieces; of not reducing you to ash and cinders with his terrrible powers. You shake in pleasure and he trembles with restraint barely held in check, his irises lit with a supernatural glow. The moment you begin convulsing, wracked with bliss, your muscles clenching around him, he finally releases, flooding your body with seed that will never find purchase, the gift of creating new life forever denied the master of death.

***

Your body aches.

The memory of the feel of Steve inside of you still lingers, long after you’ve been dropped off near your house, now clad in a clean school uniform.

So. No longer a virgin.

You suppose, in many ways, it had gone as you’d expected. Physically, perhaps. But on other levels…

Since the moment I laid eyes on you…

That had come as a bit of a surprise. Heat of the moment, maybe. Not to be taken too literally. But the way he’d sounded. The way he’d looked at you. You swear sometimes his eyes look like they’re on fire.

And after. After, when he’d cradled you in his arms until it had been time to get your clothes into the dryer. Then right back to embracing you again. Cuddling. Even better than the sex, maybe. That raw affection. God, you crave more of it already. That little secret smile of his when he’d pulled up to the curb. His fingers tightening around yours before releasing you. Handing you your school bag. Promising to see you after school the next day. You'd wanted to kiss him goodbye, but you know you need to be cautious.

You still have to keep this a secret.

The rest of your evening passes by surprisingly normal. Dinner, homework, bed. You yawn and turn over on your side. You think you’re going to sleep well tonight. It had been such an exciting, exhausting afternoon. You wonder if Steve is in bed now, too. If his bedding smells like you. The sex you’d had. Maybe he’s changed it. Is he thinking about you?

You can’t stop thinking about him.

***

“What if someone comes by?”

You’re in the backseat of Steve’s car the next afternoon, straddling his thighs. As much as you like the idea of fooling around again, you’re more than a little wary of being discovered. True, you rarely see anyone use the old dirt road, but it does happen on occasion. He wasn’t pulled that far off into the trees.

“We’ll stop if they do. Don’t worry about it.” He’s bypassed unhooking your bra, instead shoving it up over your breasts so he can suck each nipple in turn, stealing your breath for a few moments before you manage to recover at the feeling of that hot, wet mouth suckling the sensitive tissue.

“Fuck, Steve. You won’t even kiss me anywhere near my house, but you want to fuck me in the woods next to the school? Why can’t we just go back to your house?”

“Because that will take too long. I want you now,” he counters, patting your buttocks. “I promise you no one is going to find us here. Now pull your panties down.”

“It’s not easy, you know. There’s not that much room to maneuver in here.”

“Shall we have a repeat performance of yesterday afternoon? Rolling around on the ground…?”

“No.” Your cheeks turn scarlet. “Give me a second.” You raise your hips and tuck your hands beneath your skirt, tugging your underwear downward while trying to keep your head lowered so you don’t hit the roof of the car.

“You could step outside if that would be easier.”

“Now you tell me.” You begin to bring your knee back across his lap but he halts you, his hand pressing firmly against it.

“Never mind. I’ll help you.” There’s an awkward moment where one legband almost gets caught on your foot as he assists you to struggle out of one side of your panties, but you eventually manage the task together. “Much better,” he sighs, tucking his hand beneath your skirt and lightly dragging his knuckles across your bare pussy.

You hiss at the sensation, nuzzling against his shirt collar. He isn’t wearing a belt today, saving you a step in getting his khaki pants opened. Yesterday he’d done this for you; it’s a little unnerving being the one doing it. You can feel the heat radiating from his cock before you even pull it free of his briefs.

“That feels good,” he hums before sucking on your bottom lip. “I like your hands on me.”

“Yeah? You could have had them there a lot sooner.”

“Regaining some of our confidence, I see.” He slides down a bit, then pulls on your thighs to guide you into place. “You weren’t ready before. You’re still afraid,” he remarks, waiting for you to lower yourself onto his erection.

“No, I’m not.” You are, in truth, but your desire outweighs the fear, making you bold enough to try to position yourself correctly so his cock lines up with your entrance.

“Prove it.”

Your eyes dart to the sloped rear window. The dirt road is empty.

“Hey. It’s just us. The way it should be.” Steve draws you attention back to him. “Take me inside of you,” the older man urges, and your pussy throbs at this suggestion. You shift again, then tentatively begin to lower yourself down.

“Oh, fuck.”

It’s familiar, and yet brand new; from this position, being in control, at this angle, invites all new sensations. You rock up and down slowly, working him inside little by little while your tongue wrestles his.

“You like it?” His voice rasps near your cheek. “Not too sore from yesterday?”

You’re beginning to realize Steve enjoys talking during sex, just as you’d predicted he would before this had ever begun, and you’re discovering that you like it, too. “A little, but it’s okay. It feels amazing.”

“Good girl.” The praise rolls pleasantly down your spine in a rush of heat.

Even as awkward as this is, being curled over and cramped in the back of the vehicle, still mostly dressed and somewhat out in the open, you find this second session just as enticing as the first had been. There’s a certain way you slide down that puts pressure on your clit, the added stimulation making your ride even more enjoyable.

You keep his face framed between your hands, dipping to steal a kiss here and there.

“Hngh…oh. Mmmm…you’re working tomorrow night, right?”

“Yes. Swapped shifts to free up Friday night for us.”

“Good, me too. Meet me for break?”

“A quickie at the mall? With all those people around? How bold of you.”

“I didn’t mean…”

He laughs against your mouth. “Yes, I’ll meet you for…break.” The last word comes out as a half moan when you grind down further, your shallow movements becoming more pronounced. His hands settle on your waist and his pelvis rises, pushing him in even further. You watch his eyes shift from pale blue to dark sapphire to violet tinged.

“You know your eyes change color?”

“Everyone’s do. Pupils dilate because—”

“—No. That’s not what I mean. They’re…they’re illuminated. Like they’re electric. On fire. How do you do that?”

“A man can’t have his secrets?” He thrusts up hard, momentarily knocking your next words clear away until you can recover them.

“Not from me,” you reprimand gently, letting yourself drop down sharply to return the favor, eliciting a satisfying grunt. “Tell me.”

“One day,” he promises, sliding a hand up the back of your neck.

You hum with disappointment but decide to let the matter drop for now.

It’s hot inside the car. The windows are rolled down but it’s not helping the air circulate. You can taste the perspiration on his skin, feel it seeping through his shirt where you clutch onto him for support.

“You should take me for ice cream after this.” You kiss his temple.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yeah.”

“What else do you want?” His voice rumbles low, sending another throbbing pulse through your core.

“I want…” You bury your face against the side of his neck. “I want you to…Steve…”

“Tell me.”

“Oh…”

Your orgasm catches you unawares, bursting through your limbs. You shake and feel his cum shooting inside of you again, this time immediately spilling back down outside of you. His hands support your back as you lean away, swiping at the sweaty strands of hair clinging to your face.

“Good?”

“Yes.” You plant a soft, lazy kiss on the corner of his mouth, smoothing down his beard afterwards. He spends more time holding you before you finally separate, restoring clothing to its proper placement, each of you back in the front seats of the car.

***

The reaper takes another drag on his cigarette.

You’re late for the time you’d agreed upon previously to meet with him. He thumbs to the third track on the Deftones’ White Pony album, then flicks ashes out of the driver’s side window.

You move, like I want to To see, like your eyes do We are downstairs Where no one can see

Beneath the singer’s raspy vocals he recognizes a natural percussion distinct from any drum: your heartbeat. He watches as you walk down the line of parked cars, your steps quickening when you recognize the pale green Mustang.

You duck your head to view him through the open passenger window. “Hey. Sorry I’m late,” you apologize. “Got stuck doing this awful return. The lady had a ridiculous amount of stuff.” You open the door and settle beside him, frowning at the hazy cloud of smoke in the car. “You really want to get me addicted, huh?” You reach for the pack on the dashboard but he swiftly slides it out of your reach.

“They’re not good for you.”

“No shit. Second hand smoking is even worse, you know. We don’t get the benefit of the filter.”

He sighs, diverting the remainder of smoke out his window and drops the butt to the cement flooring of the parking garage.

You make the water warm You taste foreign And I know you can see The cord break away

“What are we listening to?”

“Deftones.”

Tonight I feel like more Feel like more Tonight...

You nod, considering the guitar chords that repeat during the chorus, reminiscent of a pulse. “Love song.”

He smirks. “Not entirely. More like…an obsession. A killer stalking his prey, finally making his move.”

“He kills her?”

Steve nods, pointing to the cd player.

You breathed, then you stopped I breathed, and dried you off

“Electrocuted in the bathtub.”

“Well, shit. That’s grim. Anyway, how has your night been going? What else have you been doing besides indulging in cancer sticks and listening to music about serial killers and—”

“—I never said he was a serial killer. Just the one,” he interrupts. “And nothing exciting. The usual shoplifters. Someone got locked out of their car. Someone else couldn’t remember where they parked. How that is my responsibility, I’ll never understand.”

“So we’re both having kind of lame shifts. Got it.” Your gaze lingers on the keychain you’d gifted him swinging from the ignition, your lips curving in a soft smile before you reach for his glasses to pull them free, then set them on the dashboard. He watches you, bemused as you trail your fingers over his epaulets and the embroidered patch on his uniform sleeve. The song ends and a new artist begins their vocals after a brief musical introduction.

In your room Where time stands still Or moves at your will Will you let the morning come soon Or will you leave me lying here?

“I know this band. They were on the CD you gave me.”

“Depeche Mode.”

“Yes, that’s it.” You fidget, not quite making eye contact.

“Something on your mind?”

You begin to shake your head, then stop, finally meeting his gaze as the chorus begins. “You.”

I'm hanging on your words Living on your breath Feeling with your skin Will I always be here?

Another song with a throbbing background, so reminiscent of a heartbeat. You don’t know it yet, but he’s compiled this collection especially for you. “What about me?”

“I want to kiss you.”

His lips twitch in a smile. “I think you could risk a quick one. No one’s around. So why don’t you?”

“Because I don’t know if I’m going to like the way you taste after that cigarette.”

“Quite the dilemma. There’s only one way to know for certain.”

He leans over with a soft creaking of leather to kiss your mouth. Your lips move readily beneath his and he licks them apart, sliding his tongue between them. He imagines the flavor must be ashy, strong, but you’re too overwhelmed with want, drinking him in greedily until he gently pushes you away.

“Easy, there,” he cautions, his breathing a little coarser, the crotch of his pants a lot tighter than it was moments ago. “There are people around.” As if on cue a pair of shoppers’ voices echo in the parking garage as they emerge from the elevator. He waits for the women to depart before he samples your mouth again. “So, what do you think? How terrible is the taste?”

“It’s okay,” you manage, squirming when he rests a hand on one of your thighs. “You just said it’s too public here.”

“It is. And we’re on a time constraint, which I don’t appreciate. But you’re mine,” he growls, now licking a stripe against your throat. “And I will touch you whenever and wherever I damn well please.”

“Steve.” You laugh a little, the shuddering sound of mirth evaporating when you see his features, solemn and ravenous.

“What time am I picking you up for our movie date tomorrow?”

“Um…four?”

“Fine.” He leans back, sighing regretfully as another mall patron appears, threading his way between the parked vehicles. You shift closer once you appear to be alone again, now daring to stroke your fingers up his leg but he grabs your wrist tightly. “If you start that, I will take you into that stairwell and fuck you, audience, time constraint, or not,” he cautions.

He hears you gasp, sees your lashes flutter above eyes going dark with desire as your teeth catch your bottom lip. Your skin is almost luminescent in the blue glow of the sports car’s instrument panel.

“What about after work tonight?”

“What about your curfew?”

You shrug. “I’ll make something up.”

“My intention was not to endorse delinquency.”

“What was your intention, then?” You challenge, smirking.

“You’re far too adept at this already. Little minx,” he hisses, capturing your lips roughly, then heaves a mournful sigh. “As much as I’d like to indulge you this evening, I do have things to attend to. And you have school tomorrow.”

“What do you have to do that late at night? And fuck school.”

The emissary of death frowns. “You’re not letting your schoolwork slide. You’ve worked too hard to give up now. You’re going to go home and get a good night’s rest. No arguing.” You pout but he kisses it away, then turns off the ignition. “Alright. We have to get back to work.”

“Don’t forget your glasses,” you murmur as you emerge from the vehicle.

He grabs them from the dash, refusing to admit that he had, in fact, been about to do that very thing. You were proving to be far more distracting than he’d care to admit. The temptation to grab you and pull you close gnaws at him as he walks you back to the mall entrance. Your arms brush more than once and that seemingly innocent contact is electric.

Then you’re both back inside the building, parting ways to your respective job positions, and he shudders, relaxing. For now, he doesn’t have to worry about restraining the force of his lethal touches, keeping you from harm.

Tomorrow will be quite a different story.

***

9:25PM.

You check your appearance in the mirror above the employee bathroom sink one final time before you readjust your backpack over your shoulder and depart the restroom. Your stomach is full of butterflies. You know Steve had said no to meeting up after work, but you’re fairly certain you can convince him to change his mind. He should be getting out any minute now.

Your mind lingers on thoughts of the older man’s kisses and touches and the feel of him filling the intimate hollow of your body. It’s an addiction you can’t deny yourself. Your steps grow faster and faster until you’re full on sprinting, shoving at the door of the mall entrance and bursting out into the warm late spring air. You wait for a car to pass, silently cursing them out for not stopping for you at the crosswalk, then make your way to the parking garage. You think you can see Steve in the distance, almost even with his car. Shit, you’d taken too long trying to make yourself look decent in the bathroom. You’d have to hurry to catch him.

Your vision focuses on that goal, the details of your surroundings fading into the background. They no longer matter. You don’t feel the weight of the bag you’re carrying or the dampness leftover when you’d attempted to tame some of the frizz in your hair with water from the faucet just now. The security guard turns before you have a chance to call his name, his tall, lean figure in a section where the overhead lighting appears to be failing, the bulbs flickering as you approach the strobe lit man before they finally surrender, fully extinguished.

The screech of tires doesn’t register, nor does the warning shout your lover calls. You have no time to react, to prepare for the force of steel, harsh and fast and punishing against your body, some distracted driver lazily pulling across the lanes instead of properly driving between them, eager to depart the shopping mall, unaware of your presence until it is much, much too late.

A panicked shout sounds from the driver’s open window and you see the glow of tail lights as the brakes are briefly tapped, then the car exits the garage with another squeal of tires, leaving your crumpled body in its wake just as Steve reaches you.

One hand cradles the back of your head, his other quickly probing your injuries, assessing the damage. You feel warm, wet fluid leaking from you. Bleeding. It hurts. Breathing. Existing. You can barely keep your eyes open, struggling to focus on his face.

“No!”

His eyes are glowing again. You’ll have to remind him that he owes you an explanation for that. If you make it. Are you dying? The thought comes to you, oddly detached from emotion.

Cold suddenly seizes your chest. It feels like Steve’s hand is pushing right through it, squeezing—

“Not yet. I forbid it.”

Why, though? The place you’d been going had been so warm, numbing, comfortable. Coming back means cold. Pain. You’re crying. Yelling. Maybe you can bring him with you. Show him that it’s better there.

You feel yourself wrenched from the other place’s border. Steve’s keeping you here instead. Your chest aches, somehow worse than whatever else has been broken and damaged. You hear a harsh whining sound. Ambulance. Coming for you? Will they let him go with you? Someone needs to call your parents.

Someone—something hovering above you that you don’t recognize. Gaunt. Corpselike. Where was Steve? You try to pull away but it won’t let you go. Voices shouting. EMT’s. Steve’s features before your eyes again. Delirious. Nothing makes sense. Maybe you’ll just rest for a bit. Sort this out when you wake up. If you wake up.

Your eyes close.

[littlemouserat]

Thank you for the tag :D @cowboy-jules

I will tag- @caesarclowningaround, @inktheblot, @march-harrigan

@blueberryattack , @jetmcfancy and anyone else who would want to play :D

[katzenklavierr]

Painted a cork board for my postcards and keychains. I still need a good way to display my pin/button collection.

[lovesickvalentines]

first..... i found underworld keychain for pretty cheap! in comparison to like. 130 or 80 bucks. which is crazy. he arrived pretty quickly, he was a bit sticky....? maybe from age this line was released in 2012 so shrugs. but i've cleaned him off and he's all good now! one pic from when he first arrived and then one from just now after giving him an extra scrub. in terms of figures i now have all of donatello's stuff, which isn't saying much because theres only two things. but i'm grateful!

these also arrived! i knew these were coming but not underworld cause he wasn't tracked and came from japan. but they're so cuutee..... i lav this artists stuff so i'm veeeerry very happy. i love my little cork board if anyone wants to see i can post a full image n gush about everythingggg bcs lord knows i love to. i think wes is still my favorite of the beach set but thats okay not everyone can be wes. the little ones r so cute too uuuugggghhhhhh i didn't like them at first but they grew on me fast n when they were restocked i jumped on it fast. thanks for reading i loooooooveee youu!

[saltygilmores]

The Gilmore Girls Advent Calendar-Unboxed (Spoilers)

I bought the official Gilmore Girls advent calendar off of Amazon not long after it was first released (in early September). I started opening it 3 weeks ago and just finished. I've been extremely impressed with the quality of most of the items and so I was confused why I heard rumors that it was full of junk. I watched an unboxing where some of the items were the same but some were different and cheaper and the person opening it was very unhappy. I don't know if it's because i bought it so early they cheapened some of the items down the production line or if some of the items vary from person to person, maybe they produce different ones depending on where you live? Are there people out there selling counterfeit advent calendars (that would be insane and hilarious) every single item had some kind of GG or coffee theming. I didn't keep everything (I gave a lot to a coworker) and unfortunately while I posted every item to my instagram stories I realized I wiped out my deleted photos from my phone and lost images of some of the older ones. From memory, I received: -Two patches-a Chilton patch and one teeny tiny "gilmore girls" patch -A keyring that spelled out Gilmore Girls in beads -A purple "Dragonfly Inn" hotel room keychain (which I just realized minutes ago fell off its hanger on my keyring and is currently missing) -Two magnets, one small circular "I need coffee in an iv" magnet and one "I love you a thousand yellow daisies" full size magnet (I FUCKING LOVE MAGNETS LETS GO) -Magnetic bookmarks -“life’s short, talk fast” note papers -Two themed washi tapes -Several days of stickers (one set was photos of the cast members I didn’t have any use for, the others were the usual assorted things like logos, dragonflies and coffee cups) -A sticker that revealed a picture of a coffee cup when applied to heat -6 gift tags (I hung them on my tree like Christmas ornaments) -A snowflake stencil -An “oy with the poodles” pencil -A metal coffee stirrer -2 cork coasters, one the Luke’s logo and one with a gazebo -2 paperclips with red coffee cups -2 pins, one Life and Death brigade and one No Cell Phones pin -A dinky little "recipe guide"

I think that's most of it! I was very happy with it. Like, a similar "Hotel room" style keychain and magnet that are currently selling on amazon would both cost you $8. The only things I thought were kinda lame were the beaded keychain and the recipe book.

[moon13dreams]

MY SHRINE IS COMPLETE

It occurred to me that I have been buying more keychains and pins than I ever have before and dammit, I wanted to display them!

SO...

After buying a bulletin board that apparently wasn't thick enough to prevent pushpin from stabbing the wall (why do they even sell cork-boards that aren't thick enough for pushpins??), hunting for supplies to make my own and fighting to have it not only come together, but stay on the damn wall, I made my own bulletin board!!!!

Thinking about putting some prints up here and still waiting for a couple orders to come in the mail, but I just had to share now that it's up and I can enjoy it!

Now to fill it up with more~ ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡

Some of these were gifted, a couple from ebay, others I lost the business card from getting a pair at a con, but I'll link all that I can!

Liramic (I can't wait for their shop update!!!)

Palarien (simply gorgeous art style, ahhhhh!!)

tsuchronicl (they have so much more good stuff and so cute!!)

Studio Paigy (might have to order Moshang, kinda regret not getting them lol)

Chippolyta

Now to make a pin banner or two cuz I have waaaaaaay more pins than keychains lol